Marry a Ship, Forever in Stew
by Wellwitted
Summary: Barbossa is up to his tricks again, and this time, he may just win. Will our favourite captain be able to thwart him, or will Jack be doomed to never set a foot on the Black Pearl again...?
1. Chapter 1

A blinding bright orb hung high from the invisible branches in the cerulean sky. Gulls wheeled about in this great expanse, calling to their mates with much anxiety. Tortuga was strangely quiet today, devoid of its usual uproar. One man, Captain Jack Sparrow, took note of this silence as he entered a seafront tavern.

"Odd. Quite odd," the pirate mused aloud as his eyes scanned the empty public house. "This deficiency of doings clearly advertises that something is utterly out of place."

A gravely voice replied to his spoken thought. "Matey, ye kin say that twice an' not be accused o' bein' a liar. Grant it that none be dead fer the cause o' it, will ye?"

Jack looked to the speaker. He was the barman, stocky in appearance, with an eternal grimace on his face; the product of a war wound from the distant past. He was sprawled on one of the counters, clutching onto a half-full bottle of whiskey.

The pirate captain raised an eyebrow. "So there are survivors of this silent little town, eh?"

"Unfortunately," the barman said, unashamedly plugging his ear with his middle finger, twisting and removing it again. He wiped the offending finger along the side of the bench, leaving a faint mark of dirty yellow behind.

Captain Jack Sparrow shrewdly ignored the action. "Then where (I can and shall ask you) in the blazing depths of hell are the good people of Tortuga?"

"In whose knickers ye be paradin' in t' miss the mornin'?" the barman demanded. "No deaf man coulda missed it. Unless said man 'ad 'is brains stabbed out in a brawl or other sich nonsense."

Indignation marred his voice as Jack Sparrow retorted. "Said man's mind and ears are intact! It does not account, however, for the fact that I only just disembarked but a few minor minutes ago, savvy?"

"These deadlights saw no incoming ships lately, matey," the barman informed the pirate matter-of-factly. "'Tis me job t' keep watch fer newcomers."

"That must deem you blind," Jack said, but seeing the barman's probing eyes, he turned away and muttered, "I used a jollyboat."

The other man stared at the pirate with a hard look, and then his eyes lit up. Unexpectedly, the barman exploded into a fit of laughter, slamming his palm down on the bench. He couldn't control himself as he rolled off of the counter, triggering an onslaught of crashing and smashing upon the ears.

Jack leaned over the counter, apparent concern etched into his face for the man whose sanity was being frittered away by the second. By Cotton's tongue, man! Are you all right?"

The barman continued to guffaw away, spittle landing on his ample girth.

Drained of patience, Jack Sparrow cuffed the man. The man's humour ended. He grabbed the pirate by the hand, squeezing it with surprising pressure. Jack had to bite his lip to keep from crying out.

The barman's face came closer to the captain's face, his breath stinking of alcohol. "This face is not yers t' slap, see? A duo o' wenches 'ave right o' way t' that right."

When the big man finally let go, Jack backed off slightly, wincing as the blood flowed through his hand again.

"My apology to you, 'matey', but a jollyboat is not as jolly as it sounds." The pirate rubbed his palms together painfully. "Hence, I don't see any other reason for you to burst out in laughter like a crazed monkey. Trust me, I've seen one."

The barman sighed loudly. "But there be a fine reason. Ye be the ill-fated Cap'n o' the _Black Pearl_."

"Like hell I'm not!" Jack retorted. "That would be Hector Barbossa. Consider that if you don't care much that he is _not_ a Captain. I am _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, though I'm not all that sure that it was lovely to meet you."

The man wiped his tears of amusement from the corners or his eyes. "That be a good'n, Sparrow. If ye still consider yerself the Cap'n o' the _Black_ _Pearl_, then I advise ye rethink yer life. 'Tis comin' t''n end, if not already."

Captain Jack Sparrow stared at the other man. "Why so?"

Pouring a mug of rum, the barman pushed it to the pirate. "Drink that, matey. Ye will need it most definitely."

So, with a mug of rum handy to help him fare surprises, Jack Sparrow was subjected to an account of the morning, as told by the barman.

"…that done, Barbossa kidnapped an ordained priest-"

"He what?" Jack Sparrow took a swig of rum.

The barman explained. "The man didn't see it fittin' t' conduct the ceremony himself."

"I see." The pirate paused for a moment. "Didn't think there was a preacher here."

"Neither did any o' us," the barman said with a shrug. "S'pose 'e came with the intent o' savin' our wretched souls or somethin' o' the like."

Jack had a grim expression on his face. "I suppose that did no one any good…"

By the end of the barman's narrative, Captain Jack Sparrow was a combination of seething, fretting and disbelieving.

"He is what?!" In his shock and horror, the pirate spat his mouthful of rum in the face of the barman. "Sorry about that."

The barman looked at Jack indifferently as he wiped his face with a hand. "Don't worry 'bout it. Shoulda seen it comin'. So, here I be, not puttin' meself t' disgrace by bein' witness to 'is crime. But worry not, there be a slight chance. Ye kin still stop'm if ye care to."

Captain Jack Sparrow had a set expression on his face. "My friend, I'll be witness to the undefilement of my ship. You're a good man, y'know. I swear that my name is wrong if I am not at the helm of the _Black_ _Pearl_ by sundown."

"I just hope ye be aware o' the risk ye proceed t' take," the barman said in a warning manner.

Jack began to walk away, and flung back over his shoulder, "God took more than a risk allowing men like Hector Barbossa to walk this bloody earth. I'll attempt no less."

"Good luck with ye, Jack Sparrow."

"_Captain_."

"Sure…" The barman felt sorry for the man as he left the tavern. Things might sway in a different direction, regarding the fate of the _Black Pearl_, but not as intended by her hapless original captain.


	2. Chapter 2

"Is it ready then?" Jack Sparrow peered over the man's shoulder. "You know what the man's like, longwinded and such, but that won't hold the fate of my ship back for long."

The young man poked the pirate's hand off of his shoulder with the end of the ink-stained quill. His name was Connor Fĕit, a self-proclaimed master of trickery and deception as far as the law was concerned. Not that it really needed his help for that.

"Hold yer blinkin' horses, Spug! I'm almost blinkin' done." Connor's hand paused for a moment above the parchment, quill in midair. "Er, what blinkin' date did ya have in mind, eh?"

Instead of asking why the irrepressible fraudster obliged to call him 'Spug', Jack held his index finger up uncertainly, and then he answered. "Ah, the fifteenth of October of… that year. You know."

Connor looked up at Jack Sparrow quizzically, noting the annoyed expression that had appeared on his face. "I know what you're talkin' about. The year blinkin' Becky sank the blinkin' Wi-"

Jack hastily took the leisure of slapping the man's mouth shut in mid-word. "Shut it. Just forget the history and get the bloody thing done before I have to do it myself."

"Fine then." Grumbling huffily, Connor set his eyes back on his desk. "Don't see what the blinkin' problem is. So what if yer ship was sunk, Spug? Becky is dead, deed's done and dusted. Besides that, ya have her back, don't ya…"

The foolish young man was wise enough to shut his mouth upon observing the pirate's silent stare.

"Do I now?" Jack narrowed his eyes. "Then why am I here when I could be there? Answer me that, Master Fĕit."

Connor nervously fumbled to dip the nib into the inkwell.

"Right, then." He pointed to several places for the pirate to put his signature, and then he surrendered the quill.

Once Jack had given these, Connor flipped open a rusty old rectangular tin box and rummaged through its contents. He removed from it a wooden stamp.

"Some of these are stolen, but the majority are handcrafted by myself," the wily man commented in a businesslike manner, as he sealed his work with a flourish (and not to mention melted wax). "There. It's done. Guard it with your life."

Jack Sparrow examined the letter briefly as it was handed to him before tossing a tiny sack of coins onto the workbench. "Well done."

"As always." Both men stared warily at each other as Jack stood to leave, willing the other to make a false move.

"You still have much to learn," Jack said, cocking his head slightly with amusement at the younger man. "Perhaps, some day, you'll be able to fool me with a good swindle. I'll be waiting."

"I've been blinkin' learnin' from the best," Connor replied, smiling thinly.

When at last the pirate had gone, Connor let out a collective sigh of relief. He undid the string around the neck of the bag and tipped his payment onto the table. One by one, the trickster discovered that only one out of the entire pile of coins was genuine. The rest were shams.

"Run out of femme fatales, eh, Spug?" Connor said aloud, resisting the urge to ground his teeth together in frustration.

He glanced at his list of signatures. No longer could he remember the number of times he had successfully forged unknowing victims' signatures to achieve an advantage over someone. At the spot where he had furtively pointed for an unnecessary signing (which was entirely the point) Jack had left the words _bugger off_, mockingly underlined twice. But this failed attempt at stealing the signature did not get him down. For on another pad, the imprint of his real signature had been left clear where the pirate had pressed with the quill on the letter.

"Told ya I would get it one day," Connor said, with a deviant smile on his face.

So it was possible for a trickster to trick a trickster.


End file.
